We Are Not BLInd: A Killjoy Story
by Little Snowy
Summary: A little story based on Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys by My Chemical Romance. Basically it's about the planning stages of the big takedown of Better Living Industries. But be warned, there is a ridiculous amount of drama and random plot twists along the way.
1. And Never Go Home

_June 8, 2019_

The sun beats down on my back like a gun. And honestly, these days I wouldn't be surprised one bit if the fucking sun pulled out a bazooka. Ever since BL/Ind's rise to power in 2012, everything has been completely insane. Literally.

You see, BLI is a drug company. In the beginning, they used their drugs to sedate political leaders into even more useless bastards so their agents could take over. It's exactly what it sounds like—a crazy conspiracy. Only it worked. And even now we aren't really sure when their operation started or even who all was part of the scheme.

But what we do know is that on December 21st, 2012, life as we knew it ended. That was the day Better Living Industries, better known as BL/Ind, dropped its ruse as a company working for the people and revealed its true face—a power hungry band of demons who wanted nothing less to leave the world brainless and drooling in a stupor that would bring them domination. On that day they declared war on the world. Bombs were dropped, world leaders killed, genocides committed. And while it didn't take long to take most of the world, they haven't won yet.

Because of us.

Killjoys, as we call ourselves, are freedom fighters dedicated to fighting the "joy" of sedation BLI tries so hard to promote. We aren't really an organized society. Living in groups of five or so, we basically use guerrilla warfare to attack factories and Draculoids as needed.

But we're planning something. Something big.

And that's why I'm riding around on my motorbike in the desert wasteland once known as California. The Master Plan—code name The Big One—isn't coming into effect yet, of course. It's still on the drawing board. But what we do need is to find somewhere to house all the various Killjoys around the world without being noticed by BLI. So Dr. Death Defying, the unofficial leader of the Killjoys, sent me to drive around and find that sweet spot where BL/Ind is, well, blind to. And it needs to be _somewhere_ around here, because BLI's headquarters are in this area. But with only a few hills rolling around, I'm thinking we may have some burrowing to do.

I stop my bike and take off my goggles. If we're gonna build a cavern, we need an entrance. Probably at the base of one of the hills.

Somewhere behind me I hear the sound of a motorbike. My hand on my gun, I whip around to see the rider. Though the person wears a full face helmet, I instantly notice the leather and colour he or she wears. Obviously not a Draculoid. Probably a Killjoy. Still, as the stranger approaches I keep my gun in my hand.

I raise my gun as he—I can tell it's a man now—gets off his bike. He takes off his helmet to reveal bright red hair.

I push my own blue and purple hair out of my eyes. "The name's Angel Knives. Don't mess with me 'cause I'm Dr Death's best girl. Who're you?" I bark.

"Party Poison," he answers with a smile.

I look him over—young, attractive, and bright red hair. Yep, looks like the guy on the 'Exterminate' posters. I smile, putting my gun away. "Good to meet you. You're from Zone 4, right? What're you doing out here?"

"I got a tip from Dr. Death that a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W/ unit was camping out a few miles north. I just thought I'd check out exactly what they're doing up there."

"By yourself?"

"Yeah, so? You're here by yourself."

I shrug. "Actually, I'm out here on an assignment from Dr. Death too." I gesture to the short hills behind me. "I'm scouting out locations to hide when The Big One hits."

He nods, understanding. "Any luck yet?"

"Well, I have a couple ideas but I have to run them past Dr. Death before I tell you anything."

"Okay. Well, if you want a break, you can come check out the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W/ camp with me." He wears a mischievous grin.

I purse my lips, thinking. I'd actually really like to go with him. His group is the most infamous of all in the Zones. The experience in working with him would be invaluable. But still, I do have a duty to perform here.

I'm just about to decline when a laser beam flies by about an inch from my nose. Both Poison and I turn, guns already drawn. The Draculoids are still quite a distance away; they must have a sharpshooter with them.

Poison jumps on his bike, but I stand still. I squint at the approaching car. I can't tell how many there are. But I see shadows in the cab. So I pull the trigger.

The car swerves. Hell yeah!

But I must not have hit the driver, because the car straightens up. By now they're only about a hundred meters away. That sucks, because while I'm the best shot in Zone 2 I'm terrible at close combat.

Poison's already firing from his bike, only a few feet away from the Dracs. I hop on my bike and speed towards them.

It doesn't take long before laser beams are fired in my direction. I shoot back, but fail to deliver any fatal blows. I look over to Poison, who is off his bike and engaging three Dracs. I shoot towards them, but none of my shots hit their mark. A fourth Drac fires at me, and as far as I can tell they're the only four here. I fire twice, missing once. In the meantime, Poison's killed the other two Dracs and is running towards me. I turn back to the Drac, shoot once, and dodge twice. As I'm about to fire again, it falls due to a shot in the head.

"What the hell was that?" Poison asks irritably as he puts his gun away.

"What was what?"

"You kill a Drac from four hundred yards, but you can't get one from four?"

"I'm sorry!" I yell. "I panic, okay? It's all good when I've got space. But I can't think when they're closing in on me!"

He sighs and rubs his forehead. "You're not hurt or anything, are you?" I shake my head. "Good. You still up for that S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W/ camp?"

"You sure you still want me around?"

He smiles. I can't help but notice how charming that smile is. "A sniper's always a good thing to have."

"Thanks. Hey, how far north is it anyway?"

"Ah… a couple hours. I was thinking, if we drive straight there we'll get there by the time it gets dark. It'll be a lot easier to spy on them if they're all asleep, right?"

"Okay, then what do we do after we're done the recon?" He just looks at me. I raise my eyebrows in disbelief. "You did think about that, right?"

He smiles sheepishly. "Nah, it was really a spur-of-the-moment type thing."

"Well, do you have any supplies?"

"A couple EnerGo bars and some water.

I moan. "Men are so irresponsible." Sighing, I continue. "Okay, I have lots of food and water as well as a sleeping bag and a small tent. We can go to the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W/ camp, then drive a few miles west and stop for the night. One of us can have the sleeping bag and the other can have the tent, okay?"

He nods, then smiles. "Let's do it!"


	2. So Long and Good Night

Just outside the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W/ camp, one of us steps on a particularly crunchy patch of gravel.

"SHHHHH!" Poison whispers.

"YOU'RE THE ONE MAKING ALL THE NOISE, SHITHEAD!" I whisper back.

He sighs, smiling. "Okay, you see the one standing by itself by the fire?" I nod. "That's not the only guard. They always have one hiding in the shadows on the outside of the main camp."

"So he could be right behind us."

"Yep. You see him?"

"Nope. Must be behind one of the tents."

"Let's walk around the perimeter. You go one way, I'll go the other—if you see the second guard, TURN THE FUCK AROUND and head back towards me. I'll do the same if I see it."

"Got it." I draw an X in the dirt. He looks at me inquiringly. "To mark our spot," I explain.

"Okay. Go."

I turn from him and stalk into the night. The camp isn't too big; maybe thirty feet, tops. It has a row of boulders on one side. The tents—there's eight of them—circle a small bonfire. Beside that fire stands a bored-looking Draculoid. As I pass the second tent, I start to worry about being seen. Where could that outside guard be? Up ahead? Behind a tent? Behind a boulder? Has Poison seen it yet?

Third tent.

"Hey!" Someone whispers behind me.

I turn around, expecting to see Poison, but instead I receive a fist to my face.

When I come to, I'm tied to a chair. Behind me is intense heat—the bonfire. Facing me is a Draculoid. I don't see Poison.

"Well, well, look who decided to wake up." He sneers. I spit at him, and in turn he kicks me. I make an effort to not cry out. "What're you doing out here by yourself, sweetheart? You should know better than to raid a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W/ unit by yourself. You Killjoys are getting dumber and dumber."

"And yet one of us is smarter than all you Dracs combined."

He actually growls. But then he laughs. "Well, we sure got the better of one of you this morning out on Route Guano. Real easy picking out there—he's the fourth we've ghosted out there this week." He leans in. "And you know what?" He asks with a lowered voice. "We twisted his arms the wrong way. We shot his kneecaps. We put rusty nails in his back. And when we were done, he begged for death. He begged like the dog he was." He backs up and resumes a normal tone. "We didn't fulfill his wish. We left him to die alone in this wasteland. It was fun. But you know what? I think I can have even more fun with you. I've never met a girl Killjoy before. I wonder if you have a different capacity for pain?"

I just glare at him.

He laughs and grabs my hair at the top of my head, forcing me to look at his ugly mask. "These are dangerous days to be fighting against Better Living, sweetheart. Oh yes," he laughs, "we know you Killjoys are planning something. We just don't know what. But sweetheart, no matter how fast you work you won't be able to dodge the iron fist of Better Living much longer. We've developed a new method of…. Getting things done. But to instigate our plan, we need to disrupt the Killjoys by taking their leader. So why don't you make my job easier and tell me where he is."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Where is Doctor Death Defying?" He screams.

"Who?"

"YOU'RE FUCKING USELESS!" His hand still in my hair, he pushes me back so my hair is almost in the fire. "YOU WILL TALK!"

I can't help it. I scream. But I don't say a word.

He laughs maniacally. "No one out here will care if you scream, sweetheart."

"Oh yeah? I care." A new voice states.

I can barely see Party Poison holding his gun to the back of the Drac's head. I can't help but smile.

The Drac is barely fazed. "In case you didn't know, I'm not the only one here."

Poison smiles. "Actually, your friends are sleeping right now. And actually, I don't think they'll ever wake up. That cloth your tents are made of; it's very easy to rip and sneak inside. Oh, and I took care of your back-up guard too. So why don't you just untie my friend here."

The Drac snarls and points his gun at Poison, aiming to kill. Poison shoots first, though, and the Drac falls.

"Thanks."

"Any time, Angel," he says as he starts untying me.

"So you really took down the whole place yourself?"

"Well, yeah. They were all sleeping, so it wasn't hard to cut their tents open, step inside and fire a couple shots. I got lucky with the outside guard, though. I just so happened to sneak up on him." He sighs. "I guess we won't know why they were here after all."

"Wrong. That Drac was an idiot. He told me that they're looking for Dr Death 'cause they want to start another war with the Killjoys. They've developed a new drug or something and they think they can beat us with it."

Poison's face falls. "Did he tell you any more?"

I shake my head. "Hey, any idea how long I was out?"

"About an hour. That's how long it was since I saw them tie you up anyway."

"So you started ninja killing then."

He laughs. "Yeah, basically."

I get out of my chair and look down at the Drac that tormented me. Bending down, I take off his mask.

And scream.

I barely notice Poison jumping in surprise. "What the hell?" He exclaims.

My eyes start to well up, and I fall to the ground before completely breaking down.

"Angel?" I hear. "What's wrong?"

"That…. That man there… my… fiancé…"

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry Angel!" He wraps his arms around me, and I lean into him.

"He… went missing a few weeks ago. I thought… he was dead… but oh God, BL/Ind got him! And I didn't know…! Didn't… even look…"

But I look now at the shocked expression of the man I once loved. In the terror and hatred of life under a brutal sun and an evil industry, I had found someone to help me survive. But now he was ripped cruelly from my arms. It wasn't fair.

"I'm sorry Angel, I wouldn't have shot him if I knew…" Poison was saying.

"It's okay. I'd rather have him be…dead…. Than continue to be corrupted by BL/Ind…"

Then I just sobbed onto his shoulder. And he never loosened his grip; he held me so close and stroked my back, murmuring apologies I didn't really hear.

After a while, he pulled back. "We should get some sleep now. Okay?"

He tries to help me up, but I shake my head. "I want to spend one last night with him."

At first he seems troubled by that decision, but then he nods and walks into the closest tent. When he emerges, he's carrying a sleeping bag and two pillows. "A pillow for each of you, and you can share the blanket," he explains.

Nodding, I take the supplies from him. "Thank you. Really"

"It's the least I can do. Good night, Angel."

"Good night, Poison."

I watch him walk into one of the tents before put the pillows beneath the heads of myself and my dead fiancé. I pull the blanket up to our necks, making sure it's sufficiently far from the fire. Reaching out, I close his eyes and push his mouth closed.

"So long and good night, sweetheart."


	3. Sing it out for the World

**Author's Note FTW!**

** OMFG I'M SO SORRY! I doubt there's anyone following this story, but just in case there is, I'm so sorry for not updating in weeks. I've been so stressed lately with school, finishing everything (in Music Comp especially) in time for the end of the term. But the term just ended, so hopefully I'll update a bit more often.**

** Okay, so about that last chapter. I must apologize for all that emotional crap with Angel's fiancé. Like the rest of the story, it was basically made up on the spot. For some reason my nerves were on mush mode that day. And I'll warn you now, we're not quite out of the woods yet because there's still some sap to come. It'll get cleaned away soon though, no worries. ;D**

_June 9, 2019_

The sun is barely peeking over the far-away horizon when I wake up. I feet a cold presence next to me, and jump when I see that it's _him. _I close my eyes, wanting to shut out last night's memory. Wanting to forget that he was dead now.

But I can't. And I know it's time to let him go.

I get up and stretch. Oooh, sleeping on the ground is SO not recommended. I walk around the camp, looking for a nice place to put my fiancé to rest. I don't just want to bury him in some forgotten grave in these flatlands—he needs a gravestone or something. So I settle on burying him beneath one of the boulders just outside the camp.

Making sure the grave will face the sunrise, I begin to dig using just my bare hands. It's gruelling for sure, and it is also not recommended. But I don't want to use any tools. I need some sort of reconciliation for being partially responsible for his death. It takes two hours for me to dig one a bit over two feet deep.

And then I drag him over.

And then I lay him in to ground.

And then I say my last goodbye.

Though I wish I could leave his body like that, forever looking to the heavens and hopefully seeing something nice, I don't want the vultures to pick him apart. Still, it seems so unjust to obscure his view with something so polluted as dirt. It's not fair. But then, his demise wasn't right, either.

Life sucks sometimes.

With one final glance at his pathetic grave, I head back to the central part of the camp to get breakfast cooking. However, I'm surprised to see that Poison beat me to it. He's eating Power Pup from a frying pan. He must have cooked it over the fire.

"Good morning," he cheerfully greets me.

I eye him suspiciously. "How long have you been up?"

He shrugs. "Half an hour. I didn't think you wanted to be disturbed." He holds up his frying pan. "Breakfast?"

I take the can and grab the Swiss army knife from my back pocket, pulling out the spoon extension.

He stares at my utensil incredulously. "You have one? Those haven't been around for years!"

I laugh. "My old man gave it to me before BL/Ind got him."

He gives me a knowing nod. "So where are you stationed, anyway?"

"The outamoft ed off Zone 2. Kinda near where Fan Fanshishco ushed to be."

"What was that?" He laughs. "Finish chewing."

I frantically swallow my lump of food. "Near where San Francisco used to be, in Zone 2."

"Oh yeah? So how'd you end up here in Zone 1? Alone?"

I scarf down a few bites more bites before answering. "I've got connections with Dr Death. I'm one of the people he trusts most."

"And yet you ruined it by telling me."

"Yeah, well, I took pity on you. That red hair of yours is hideous." LIES. I love his hair.

"Hey, don't knock the hair," he says as he smoothes it back. "Besides, it's prettier than yours. Blue? Purple? Indigo? What colour is it supposed to be?"

"ALL OF THEM." With that, I swallow my last spoonful. "So you heading back to Zone 4 now?"

He looks away and rubs his neck. I notice he has red dye on it. "Yeah, I'd better. No one was really crazy about me heading out by myself anyway."

"So why ARE you alone, anyway?"

He looks down. "Well, I kinda had a fight with my brother and just needed to get away from everything for a while. The camp was just an excuse for something to do, you know?"

I nod and stand. "I guess I should get going too. I need to get the info I collected back to Dr Death."

He gets up too and takes about two steps in the direction of the bikes before he stops cold. "Hang on," he says. "Is there a reason why we're not taking any supplies?"

I smack my palm against my forehead. "Crap on a cracker! Don't I feel like an amateur now. Okay, why don't you go through those four tents over there, and I'll get these."

"Sure. Then we'll split the goods, right?"

"Yeah."

I turn around and walk into the nearest tent, and start chucking everything out into the centre of the camp. Sleeping bags, food, tools, medicine, food, guns, sleeping bags, medicine, weird shit that I don't even want to know what it is. Typical Drac stash.

In the last tent, as I throw away a sleeping bag, I notice a small black briefcase-type thing that it was hiding. Picking it up, I notice it a keypad at the top, locking it shut. Beside the keypad sits a small square screen that I assume is for taking thumbprints. Hm. Obviously whatever is in here holds something important. Something they don't want someone like me to see.

Huh. Well, I'm definitely going to check out the contents anyway. "Hey Poison!" I yell over my shoulder. "Come here for a sec!"

As I wait for him, I turn the briefcase over in my hands. It's made of metal, and I'd be willing to bet it's laser and bullet proof. While it's pretty heavy, I think most of the weight comes from the case rather than the contents.

"What's up?" Poison asks as he pushes up the entrance flap of the tent.

"Check it out," I hold out the briefcase.

He grabs it from me. "Wonder what's inside."

"Something good, I'd bet. Can you break into it?"

"I doubt it." He purses his lips. "But you know, I think Fun Ghoul probably could."

I try to picture Ghoul in my head. "The short one?"

"Yeah." He puts on a frustrated face. "So, how do you want to do this?"

"Do what?"

"Unlock the briefcase. Do you want me to head back to my gang's hideout and you head to yours, and then I'll get Dr Death to tell you about it, or do you want to head back with me, or what?"

Hmmmm. Tough call. I'm pretty sure his hideout is in the opposite directions from mine, so that would mean a lot more driving for me. But then, I'd really like to be there when they get it open. I'm the one that found it, after all. It's my little baby.

"I'll come with you, I guess. Maybe it'll have some information or something that'll help my report for Dr Death. If you don't mind," I quickly add.

"Not at all, my little stalker."

"Stalker?"

"You follow me here, now you're following me home?" He laughs.

I just roll my eyes, not wanting to grace his joke with a reply. "All right, well, are you done going through your tents? Let's see what we've got here."

It takes us about half an hour to sort through everything. In the end we mostly just take food, as that's all our bikes can really carry. We got tools, too, like wrenches and knives and stuff. We also spent a fair amount of time arguing over a stupid comb that, in the end, I couldn't talk Poison out of taking. It has a built-in gel squirter or something, and it plays crappy music as you comb.

We left everything else where it was. I suggested lighting it all on fire, but Poison argued that BLI could spot the smoke and send someone out to investigate. To that I conceded.

"Hey, how long is the drive, anyway?" I ask him just before kicking my bike into gear.

"Six hours, give or take. You wanna do it all in one go?"

"Yep. Might as well." Idiot. I should not have said that. I should have said, "Nah, let's split this into two days and take lots of breaks." Because SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT I hate long bike rides. My ass gets so sore. And while the roar of the engine sounds like a good old friend at first, after a while it turns into that old friend you forgot talked too much.

On a positive note, though, we don't run into any more Dracs. On the other hand, we only stop TWICE—once because we both got hungry, and the second time because my bike needed more fuel. We don't talk at all except for when we were stopped—the engines are too loud for much conversation.

It's twilight when we approach an abandoned diner. I think it's kind of weird for a diner to be out here by itself. Hm.

I hear Poison shift his bike into a lower gear as we get closer to the diner. "Holy shit, this isn't it, is it? We're actually here?" I shift down my bike too.

He laughs and exclaims, "Home sweet home!"

Well, I'm officially jealous. The diner is absolutely gorgeous. It looks very worn down, and I'm thinking it's probably at least thirty years old. I try to imagine the stories behind the bright spray paint and faded posters covering its exterior. Some of those posters even advertise the day's specials, as if the place still got customers every day. I think it was some sort of 'last stop for 200 miles' type thing where people could meet and have a good time without really getting to know each other. All sorts of beautiful junk sits out front, ranging from old to new and working to completely trashed. Above the double doors is a sign that reads "DIE." Hm. Couple of letters missing there.

My bike just comes to a stop as a little girl—no older than ten—with big curly hair bursts through the doors, chased by a guy with equally big hair. I notice a gun in a holster on his thigh.

I glance at Party, who smiles, jumps off his bike and runs to the girl. He scoops her up in a hug as the guy with the big hair (and AWESOME aviator sunglasses) nods toward me and, with his hand twitching by his gun, asks Poison, "So who's she?"

"Oh, that's Angel Knives. It's cool, she's a friend. I met her out in Zone 1. Angel, this is Jet Star."

Jet relaxes and smiles at me. "Nice to meet—WAIT, ZONE 1?" He stares at Poison incredulously. "What the hell were you doing way out THERE?"

Poison lets down the little girl and laughs. "Killin' Dracs. What else?"

While Poison explains what he's been doing for the past three days and Jet tries to tell him how worried everyone was while still trying to sound manly, the little girl runs up to me and practically knocks me down in a hug.

"Hi Angel! My name's Missile! Missile Kid! Are you staying with us now?"

I smile. "No, sweetie, I have a bunch of friends out in Zone 2 that I live with."

"Oh." Her dirty face falls. I wonder it was last washed. "It would be so nice to have another girl around."

I look down at her with mock horror. "You mean you have to hang around these nasty boys all day?" Then real horror sets in. Has she ever played with other girls? Ever had a doll? Or has she been subjected to life on the run with a bunch of grown men?

"It's not so bad. They're all real nice. Come on, I wanna show you around!" With that, she grabs my hand and starts dragging me to the diner.

"Hey, whoa, hold on a sec there Kiddo!" Poison shouts after us. "We have some work to do before you go play."

Jet shoots him a look. "Oh?"

"Oh yes. We got something good."

"Aw, come on Poison! I'm just gonna show her around!"

Poison opens his mouth to say something, but Jet cuts him off. "All right, but send Kobra and Ghoul out here. Okay?"

Missile excitedly squeals and "OKAY!" over her shoulder as she drags me through the doors.

First impression of the interior: Men obviously live here. The place is a mess, but somehow I get the impression that it's an organized mess. All the beer cans are thrown into one general area by the counter; various magazines occupy the tables and the floors around them; tools mostly hang out by the door. More miscellaneous items are scattered here and there too. A cloth dummy with a Drac mask thrown on its head sits in a corner. A photo of a smiling woman holding a baby sits on the closest table.

"Looks nice," I tell her.

"Uh huh! Uh huh! Let me show you my room!"

She lifts up a portion of the counter top and walks through the gap, holding it up for me as I walk through too. Immediately she reclaims my hand and pulls me through an unused looking kitchen and into some back rooms.

"The people who owned this diner while it was still open lived here, so there're some bedrooms back here," she explains. "But mine used to be a storage closet."

She puts her hand on the closest doorknob, which is attached to a colourfully decorated door. There are tons of papers and other things attached to it—postcards, paper dolls, even small trinkets. Reminders of life in an otherwise dead world, I suppose. Before she opens it, she screams into the hallway, "GHOUL! KOBRA! JET AND POISON WANT YOU OUT FRONT!"

I laugh. "Think they heard you?"

She looks up at me, concerned. "I don't know, do you? I can yell louder." She sucks in a deep breath to call again.

I cut her off before she can. "No, no, sweetie, I think they did." A door opens down the hall. "See? Look."

From the door emerges a tall guy with dirty blond hair. He looks relaxed, if somewhat annoyed, until he sees me. Then his expression switches to alarm.

"Who—"He starts to ask.

"It's okay, Kobra, she's my new friend. Her name's Angel." Missile chirps.

He relaxes again and outstretches his hand as he walks toward us. "Nice to meet you. I'm Kobra Kid," he says as he shakes my hand.

"Good to meet you to."

"You'd better get out there or Poison's gonna be mad at you," Missile pipes up.

He rolls his eyes. "Not surprising. Why aren't you helping?"

"Because I have to show Angel around!" She said as if it were the only obvious answer.

A little smile lights up his face. "Well, have fun then."

"We will! Uh huh!" With that, she thrusts her door open and pulls me inside.

I don't know what I was expecting to see in her room. Maybe something like what mine looked like when I was her age, with posters of all my favourite bands covering the walls. Or maybe I thought I'd see toys scattered all over the floor.

But whatever I was expecting, it wasn't this.

Instead of posters of bands or celebrities or even cats, Missile's favourite guns are displayed on glossy paper on the walls. There are no books or video games or toys, but there are maps and tracking devices and, on a table, a white gun. On the floor sits a dirty mattress with a faded floral print blanket and a lumpy looking pillow.

"So this is my room! Isn't it great?" She asks me.

But before I have time to even think of an answer, she pulls me to her little table. "Come here for just a sec. I want to show you something special," she says. Her table is a bit higher than my knee and its bright red paint is chipping. Her gun rests on one corner, hiding the neatly folded paper behind it from view from the doorway.

And when I see it, I remember why I'm a Killjoy.

It's a picture. Drawn on scrap paper and coloured with whatever she could find. But the materials obviously aren't the concern. Her drawing depicts three people—a man, a woman, and a little girl. They're slightly better looking than stick figures. Anyway, they're all smiling and holding hands beside a house. Smoke puffs happily from the chimney, and there are flowers smiling in the windows. Printed messily at the top, just above a shooting star, was: "I wish I could go home and see Mommy and Daddy again."

My heart absolutely shatters. No one should ever have to write this.

She smiles broadly as she holds it up. "Ghoul says that if you see a shooting star, and you make a wish, it'll some true. So I drew this so I'd always have a shooting star, and a wish to go with it. Maybe it'll come true one day! Do you have a wish, Angel?"

I look at her for a minute, fighting back tears. She's grown up in this—this generation nothing. She grew up having to be what tomorrow needs, without ever knowing for sure if she'd ever actually get there. Not like me. I had everything. I almost vomit with the sickness of it. Maybe she'll have a true home one day, but she'll never see her mommy and daddy again. I'm sure BLI took care of that.

"I just want to stop the bad guys, Kiddo."

She nods enthusiastically. "That's a really good wish. I think it's important to always have a wish, because then you always have something, even if somebody takes away everything you own."

I smile and nod uneasily. "Well, it's very pretty," I tell her.

"Thanks! Now lemme show you the rest of the place."

I swear. I will stop BLI with my own hands to create a better future for her.

There are three more rooms in the hall. She explains to me that Ghoul and Jet get their own rooms, and Poison and Kobra share one since they're brothers. But then she adds that they all act like brothers anyway, so they probably just drew the short straws. She also explains to me that we won't be going into any of their rooms because they smell really bad. I believe her completely.

So she pulls me all the way through the hall and out the back door. The immediate view is uninspiring—just miles and miles of rocky desert, with a few hills and tumbleweeds thrown into the picture for variety.

Dragging me a little to the left, she points and smiles. "This is where we practice!"

Following her finger, I see a target range I didn't notice before. Dummies wearing Drac masks that are propped up with two-by-fours are scattered over the space of about twenty feet. The dummies are full of holes.

She pushes me back in the direction of the diner, but leads me past the door. I notice that the back of the building has just as much graffiti as the front. We stop at the corner of the house, where there's a small indentation in the building. There was probably a big propane tank or something there for a barbeque.

"Sometimes Poison comes over here and draws." She grins mischievously and puts a finger to her lips. "But it's our secret, okay? He thinks no one knows he draws."

I smile. "Okay."

She takes my hand once again and leads me around the corner. A lot of scattered automotive junk is scattered around here.

"And this is where the boys fix things. The Trans Am mostly, I guess. But the guns too." Without giving me much time to look around—a shame, because I'm actually quite the grease monkey—she brings me back out front. "And that's the whoooole place!" She proudly exclaims.

"Well, thank you very much, Missile. That was wonderful." I put on a bright smile, which deepens hers.

"Well, I guess we'd better see what Poison wanted to talk about so bad," she says shyly. Aw, that's so cute.

We walk together to where the boys were clustered. There are four of them there. I guess Fun Ghoul was working outside or something, and that's why we didn't see him in the diner.

As we approach them, Poison looks up. "Hey, there you are, Angel. Get over here. Ghoul got the thing open."

"The thing. Sure, that's what it's called," I laugh. It feels good to laugh, but bad at the same time. I'm still not completely over Missile's drawing. These aren't exactly happy times.

But then I see what's in the case, and my whole perspective changes.


	4. Let's Kill Tomorrow

**AUTHOR'S NOTE! :D**

**Haha, you waited all this time for a filler chapter. XD**

**Okey. Here it is. Sorry about last chapter's cliffhanger. I wanted to update for anyone following the story, and I was way too tired to write more. And I didn't know what was in the metal case. Heh. Oh, and I'm sorry this chapter took so long. I actually wrote two different (though incomplete) versions of it, but ended up writing this one 'cos the other ones were shitty and, well, just plain weird. Mostly because writing scenes with six characters is a BITCH. So for this chapter, you can expect lots of one-on-ones. Additionally, I wrote about two pages **_**completely in the wrong time of day.**_** Argh.**

**I love you forever for reading my story, and I'll love you longer than forever if you review. :D**

**Oh, and I almost forgot. In the next chapter or two, Angel's band of Killjoys will be introduced. Unfortunately, they don't currently exist. So if you want to, you can send me your own Killjoy character via PM or however. Thanks! **

"HOLY SHIT," I say loudly. I have only barely gotten a glimpse of the syringe nestled neatly into the metal case when I realize what it is. I make a lunge for it and cradle it in my hands, observing how the thick, cloudy liquid swirls behind the glass. The only label is a small sticker with the BLI logo and the numbers '5136-08.' "I KNOW WHAT THIS IS."

Everyone gives me a surprised look, so I explain. "When Poison and I were at the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W/ camp I got caught and the…" I close my eyes and swallow hard. "… the guy that had me said they had a new weapon. This has got to be it."

There's a moment of silence, then Ghoul put in, "Okay… but what does it do?"

I blush. "I don't know. Something big, though, from the way he talked about it."

Missile chimes in with a suggestion. "Well," she says with a thoughtful tone, "BLI is a drug company, so it's probably a drug. And they like to make drugs that mess with people's minds. So I think probably this is a really powerful mind drug."

I nod. "Seems likely. And I bet this number here…" I tap the little label on the syringe, "is a serial number. If someone could hack into BLI's computer system and type this in…"

"We could find out exactly what it is," Poison finishes. "All, right but we'll have to go into Battery City."

The boys all nod, excited, but I frown. "Guys, we should really talk to Dr Death about this. He might even know what this is, and we wouldn't have to risk going to the city at all."

Ghoul smirks and pats my shoulder. "Girl, you need to learn to live a little! Have some fun!"

"But this isn't a game!" Ugh. They're so immature. Battery City is a dangerous place for Killjoys—don't they know that?

"Well, why not make it one?" Ghoul fires back.

"Yeah," Poison put in. "I mean, we've only got one life. Might as well get a few thrills out of it."

"Fine," I spit. "When will you go?"

"'You?' Not 'we?'" Jet asks with asked with a raised eyebrow.

I cross my arms. "That's right. I've got a bunch of pals out in Zone 2 that won't appreciate it if I die."

The boys have amused expressions on their faces—except for Poison, who looks annoyed, and Missile, who looks like she's gonna start crying. I wish she'd leave; I hate to be mad around her.

"I'm not fucking lying!" I yell at them as I turn around and walk to my bike. "Battery City will fucking eat you alive! You're gonna die!"

Poison grabs my arm before I get too far. "What the hell is your problem with Battery City? You weren't so afraid of spontaneously taking on a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W/ unit. And you told me you're one of Dr D's best. So what are you so fucking afraid of?"

I yank my arm away. "Nothing," I tell him defensively. "Nothing," I repeat quietly to myself.

"Well, we don't really need her." Kobra is saying. "We've gone to Battery City loads of times."

"Yeah, she'll just hold us back. All that strategy shit..." Ghoul laughs. Jet and Poison nod approvingly.

Reverse psychology? Really? If they think that'll work…

I sigh. "I'm in, I guess. Someone needs to make sure you don't all die."

…They're absolutely right.

Everyone agreed that breaking into a BLI office building would require at least a bit of planning. It took a full two hours, however, to hammer out the plan. Ghoul and Kobra wanted to do a stealthy after-hours break in and make the rest up along the way, and while the rest of us liked the after-hours idea, we wanted a little more detail. Poison thought we should obtain a few maps at least, and Jet even suggested we case the joint first, figure out where the security cameras are, and break in later. I, of course, wanted to strategize our every move. Missile, whom we unanimously decided would not be accompanying us on our mission, sided with Ghoul and Kobra for kicks.

It took a lot of blood, sweat, and fuck yous, but in the end, our plan looked something like this:

_ -Leave tomorrow whenever everyone is up (Angel bunks with Missile)_

_ -Stop by Dr D's to drop off Missile; also so Angel can give him her mysterious report (also to graffiti the place—REVENGE!)_

_ -Stop by Angel's hideout to check in with her group; see if they want to come—maybe stay the night (graffiti their place also, for kicks)_

_ -Get in the city, stay at a safehouse, beat us some Dracs and steal their uniforms, sneak into nearest office, hijack vacant computer, look up serial number, fuck with their hard drive, leave. Probably beat up some more Dracs._

Not as precise I'd like, but whatever.

After the golden list of planning was finished, I declared that I was going to go out back for a smoke. I figured today's incredible bitchiness was due to the fact that my nicotine addiction has been deprived for almost two days.

As I light up beneath the orange outdoor light fixed to the wall, I marvel at the land around me. By now it's almost dark, and a few stars perforate the smooth, vast pink-purple skies above me. And even though I can't see the horizon too clearly, I know that for miles and miles, there is nothing but hard dirt and open sky. I can't help but wonder why these people would want to live out here, in this vast emptiness. Trees and mountains are my thing—I love the closeness they bring. It's like they're guardians, making sure I'm always safe and never too alone. I feel too vulnerable out here in the desert.

I'm so lost in thought that I'm startled enough to almost fall over when the backdoor opens and Poison steps out, sketchbook and pencils in hand. He freezes when he sees me. Oh joy, an awkward silence.

"Um, sorry, I'll leave," he mumbles.

"No, it's okay…" my eyes flicker to his sketchbook. "You draw?"

He looks down at it like he's never seen it before, then back at me, then back at the sketchbook. "Oh yeah, this. I keep it around as a bit of a stress buster, you know?"

I nod.

After another moment of awkward silence, he politely asks, "How do you deal with stress?"

"Oh, I like to go out, tie a guy up, and release my tension sexually. Just…" I bite my lip seductively, "work it all out. Slowly."

He starts coughing, completely caught off guard. "Wha…" he chokes.

I double over, laughing. "Oh my god, I'm KIDDING! Just trying to break the tension."

He looks uncomfortable for a moment, then joins in uneasily. I wonder if he knew that I'm actually capable of joking around?

"In actuality," I say once our laughter dies down, "I love painting. Colours express…"

"…Feelings better than words, right?"

I smile. "Yeah." It feels, just for a moment, that we have some sort of connection, and I feel… happy. But when I look at his eyes, I see how uncomfortable they look—like he really wants to get away. So, heavy with disappointment, I drop my cigarette and smudge it in the dirt. "Well, thanks for this little talk. I'll let you get to your art, I guess…"

He nods. "All right. See ya."

Damn. That could have gone over better. We'd had something going for a moment there… but then it died. Would he really rather spend time on his art than he would with people? I mean I wouldn't blame him, but if he DID like art so much, why was he so shy about it? Which, for the record, is bullshit. Art is not something to hide. Why make something beautiful if no one will admire it?

That got me wondering: was he embarrassed? Did he think no one would like it? Did the other guys make fun of him? No, that didn't seem right. Jokingly, maybe, but they none of them seemed like the kind of guy to make fun of someone for their interests. It definitely wasn't Missile—hell, she'd probably love art lessons from the guy. Some sort of past trauma then? A father who didn't want his son involved in something so delicate?

Whatever. I'll solve the puzzle that was Party Poison eventually.

I wander back inside, and, seeing the time on the wall, decide that now's as good a time as any for dinner. I dig through the cupboards for some food that doesn't come out of a can, but my search only yields Power Pup, EnerGo, a few stray cans of vegetables, and beer and soda.

"Hey somebody," I yell. "Do you have any actual food?"

I hear Missile Kid dash from her bedroom. "Yes! We have some meat in the freezer I think and some crackers in the back of that little corner cupboard. I'll get it for you!" As she scrambles to find the promised ingredients, she asks me, "Are you going to cook us some food? Because I'd like that a lot! The boys _never ever_ cook and I don't know how!"

Me? Cook? Burn is more like it. But I tell her, "Yes, of course I will. I'm going to cook everyone a nice dinner tonight. It can be a sort of party for before we leave."

"OH. MY. GOD. YES." She squeals. "I'll tell the boys! No, wait, let's make it a surprise."

"Sure, kiddo. Whatever you want." As she starts looking for ingredients, I look for the oven.

It took a few minutes, but I found it below a mountain of beer cans. I turn it on, just to make sure it works. I also turn the dials on the stove, checking to see if they work too. To my satisfaction, everything seems to be operational. Next I look for pots and pans. The first place I look is beneath the oven. Just as I thought I would, I found a nice variety of pots. Looking for something like a casserole dish, I open up the cupboard above the stove. No dishes there, but I find a few miscellaneous spices and a couple packages of instant mashed potatoes.

Suddenly, I feel a tickling at my waist. I let out a small yelp before whipping around and coming face to face with a grinning Fun Ghoul. He quickly but casually retracts his hands and sticks them in his pockets. "Hi Angel," he says.

I shove him. "Don't do that! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" I yell.

"Do what? He asks innocently.

"Sneak up on me like that!"

"I didn't sneak up on you. You just didn't hear me." He turned to Missile. "You heard me coming, right, kid?"

She nods, barely containing her laughter.

I groan. "What are you, five?"

He laughs, then, seeing the ingredients behind me, he asks, "What're you cooking?"

Missile nudges me. "Should we tell him?" She loudly whispers as she puts a brown package of meat, a can of actual soup, a bottle of ketchup, and two boxes of crackers on the counter.

Understanding her, I grin evilly. "Nah. He doesn't need to know."

He rolls his eyes. "Lame. Try to sound convincing, ladies. You're cooking. There's nothing special about that."

"Come on," I urge. "Aren't you at least a little psyched to have some real food? Not PowerPup?"

He answers with a stony poker face, "No."

I shrug. "Okay then, you're not getting any."

Exactly as I say that, Kobra walks in from the front door. Also at that moment, I realize that Ghoul and I are still standing pretty close. Not touching, but close.

Ghoul realizes it to and bursts into laughter. "Awkward!"

Kobra shakes his head, chuckling, and disappears into the back of the diner, into the area with the rooms. We all watch him go, silently. All I can think is, _yep, it's officially Awkward Moments Day._

I return to the food, and Missile tells me that she's going to go back to her room for a bit—packing, she said. As she left, I told her that lunch would only be another couple minutes. She left anyway, leaving me and Ghoul alone.

Leaning on the counter beside me, he starts talking. "Just for the record, we already ate. It's like, ten o'clock, you know."

I shrug as I open the package of meat, identifying it as ground beef. "Well, I haven't eaten yet, and I just so happen to be starving. I haven't eaten since like four." I fill two pots with water and set them on the stove.

He scoffs. "So you come into our house and use our good food for dinner for yourself? Nice."

"Well, Poison hasn't eaten for a few hours either, so he can have some. Missile seems hungry too. And besides, none of you really strike me as the cooking type. So it's not like you'd use any of this anyway."

"Then why do we have it?"

I pause. Good question.

He laughs. "Ah, I'm just messing with you. We'd all love some real food for once."

I smile. "Thanks. I'm still not telling you what I'm making."

"Whatever. I'll find out soon."

As I prepare the food, we continue to chat. It's really nice. He's incredibly easy to talk to—he's got a cool remark for everything and takes interest in what I say. I feel like I could tell him anything, and he wouldn't judge me for it. It's like I've known him forever. Adding to that sense of comfort is the fact that he's incredibly entertaining. He's got a joke for everything, and knows how to make fun of anyone and everything without being mean. I almost regret it when the meat browns and the veggies boil.

Turning off the stove, I tell him to go tell everyone that dinner was waiting if they wanted it. Once he left, I found six glasses—though I would have preferred _parfait_ glasses—and divided the food I'd cooked into them. First a layer of mashed potatoes, then the veggies, then the ground beef with some spices, a layer of ketchup, and then repeated the whole thing. On top of the final layer I crumbled some crackers. There—six beautiful hamburger parfaits.

Just then, the boys and Missile walk in.

Jet smiles. "I heard you cooked for us. Thanks."

I wink. "Any time! Go take a seat, guys." As they did so (how obedient!) I gathered up the parfaits and carried them over. The boys gave me weird looks as I set the food on the table, but Missile looked excited.

"Um, what are these, exactly?" Poison asks.

"Hamburger parfaits!" I exclaim. "My mom used to make them for me all the time. I thought I'd share a little… I don't know, piece of me for being so nice."

"They look so good!" Missile squeals, reaching for one.

"Yeah, dig in." I encourage. "I'll grab some drinks."

The rest of the night passed in a blur. The beers flowed freely, as well as the soda. We all shared stories—weird anecdotes of daily life, funny childhood stories, anything we felt like saying. And it was so nice. These guys were so friendly, it felt like I had been a part of them forever. By the end of the night, I knew all of Missile's favourite things, Ghoul's jokes, and Kobra's facial expressions (there are two—poker face and laughing). I also began to realize that while Jet and Poison loved a good time as much as their friends, as the oldest of the group they also felt responsible for their keeping them safe. As a whole, I noticed that they were like one big family.

That made me ache for my own family, but also made me recall what we were going to do tomorrow. Argh. Me and my worrying. Suddenly nothing was funny anymore, and I told the boys that I was going to put Missile to bed, and then hit the hay myself. They all smiled and bid me good night.


	5. Stay Awake

**Thank you to the awesome YouTubers who submitted their characters. You guys are the best! Your characters will show up in the next chapter. If anyone else still wants to submit a Killjoy character, PM me. **

**In all honesty, though, I'm seriously losing interest in this story and am probably going to ditch it within the next few chapters. I'll try to wrap it up nicely though…**

**And there's a plot twist coming right away in this chapter that comes out of nowhere. And you should know, it literally came out of nowhere. Made up on the spot because I needed something exciting to happen… so I don't know how this is going to affect things… **

**Well, here goes. **

_June 10, 2019_

Dawn seeps through the dirty window in Missile's room. From my blankets crumpled on the floor, I gaze into the early sunlight for a few minutes. I am unable to see anything through it and yet… it's captivating. I can't stop looking at the hazy rays of light. Dawn just has that effect on me; it's like a visualization of a beginning. And every beginning, of course, can only get bigger and grander. Potential. That's the word to describe it.

After what seems like a second (but was probably at least ten minutes) I hear Missile moan awake. From the dirty mattress beside me, she smiles when she sees that my eyes are open.

"Good morning, Angel," she murmurs.

"Good morning, Missile. How'd you sleep? Any good dreams?"

She smiles. "I always dream. And when I dream, I sleep well. Anything with a dream is good."

More wise words from the Missile Kid. That girl is well beyond her years. I sit up and smile at her. "Are you hungry?"

She nods. "Uh huh. Will you make me breakfast?"

"Sure thing, kiddo."

Standing up, I hold my arms out and then cross them over my head, inhaling.

"What are you doing?" Missile asks sleepily.

"Yoga. It's basically stretching. It just helps me wake up a little. I'll go make breakfast now."

"Okay."

I make zero effort to be quiet as I roam the kitchen for food, keeping with my policy of giving zero fucks before ten in the morning. I throw open the cupboards, hoping for cereal but willing to settle for just about anything with carbs… wait. Last night's crackers. Yesssss… crackers.

The box is exactly where I left it last night: on the counter by the stove. I'm surprised at myself as I lunge for it; I'm really not that hungry. It's just that I FUCKING NEED THOSE CRACKERS. Suddenly crackers are just my best friend in the whole world. Before I know it, most of the box is gone. Shit. What am I going to feed Missile now? Oh well, I'll think of something… right now I just fucking need mayonnaise. Forget crackers. Mayo is my new love.

I don't even have time to open the fridge when my stomach lurches. It is at that moment that I realize two things:

I do not know where the bathroom is;

And HOLY SHIT I'M PREGNANT.

I throw up into the kitchen sink, with my hair getting strains of vomit in it. Oh, perfect. I cough up all I can, then rinse. By the time my mouth is fully clear of vomit, the sink is clear too.

Well, this is wonderful. I sigh as I tug my hair out of its ponytail, gather it in my hands, and lean into the sink to wash it. As I lather it with dish soap, I ponder the scariest question in my life:

Am I pregnant?

I did fuck that guy right before I left home the other day. But we used protection! But I have morning sickness… and who on Earth craves crackers and mayonnaise at any time of day, let alone six in the morning? Fuck. I wish I could get my hands on a pregnancy test. If I am preggers, I probably shouldn't be going on raids anymore. And no more cigarettes or beer. Oh crap, I did all of those yesterday! Will that affect my child at all?

I'm just rinsing my hair as I hear someone enter the kitchen.

"Grab me a towel," I command whoever it was, my voice surprisingly strong.

Whoever it laughs and says "Good morning to you too," as they disappear into the back of the diner. I'm not sure who it was, but I kind of think it was Poison.

He returns a moment after, giving me the towel by throwing it on my head.

"Thanks," I say without a hint of sarcasm. Quite an accomplishment. I wrap my hair in it, turban-style. Turning around, I see that I was correct—it is Poison.

Utilizing every calming technique I know, I paste a slight smile on my face and ask, "What are you doing up so early?" He must have just gotten up—his hair is a mess and in place of his usual tight clothes and leather, he's wearing wrinkled plaid pyjama pants and a soft black tee. Adorable.

"Coffee." He motions to a coffee maker on the corner counter. Making his way over to it, he asks, "So what are you up to?"

I laugh nervously. I'm still not one hundred percent sure I'm preggers, and I don't want to cause any unnecessary stress on anyone…. "Breakfast," I say simply.

He turns around from the coffee maker and raises an eyebrow. "Crackers?"

"Um, yeah. Carbs are a pretty important thing to have in the morning…" I have no clue if it's true or not, and I'm counting on him not knowing either.

He shrugs and goes back to the coffee. "OK, whatever." His back still turned, he asks, "So why is your head in my kitchen sink?"

"Um, I don't know where the bathrooms are. And my hair was really gross." Both complete truths.

"Oh, Missile didn't show you on her grand tour yesterday? There's one—or two I guess, men's and women's—in the back, in the little hallway off the left side right before the back door. And there's another two over there—" He points vaguely—"on the other side of the room."

"Okay, thanks. So, um, is anyone else up yet?" I ask. "I'd like to get going as soon as possible."

Shrugging again, he says, "No idea. They'll wake up when they do." He comes over and leans on the counter beside me. "I'd like to get going too, though. It's about three hours to Dr. Death's place from here. How much farther is it to your hideout?"

"'Bout an hour and a half. It's not a difficult drive or anything."

"Oh, so we've got plenty of time then." He smiles.

I nod. "Yeah, but I like to have a super-tight, clockwork schedule. I get the impression that you guys are a little more flexible with your time, so I need to factor that into the schedule I've got worked out in my head…"

He laughs. "You can let loose, you know. The world won't fall apart—well, won't fall apart any more than it already has—while you enjoy life. It's not all bad. Smell the roses once in a while, you know?"

I smile half-heartedly. "Well, I try. But whenever I relax, something always seems to come up." My hand flutters to my stomach, seemingly of its own accord.

He pays it no attention. "Then take control. Nobody controls your life except for you. You have the power."

I laugh. "So I'm supposed to force myself into relaxation then? That sounds effective…"

"You're right," he chuckles. "But still, think about it."

He checks the coffee machine. "Oh good, it's done." He turns around and opens the cupboard behind him. "Want a cup?"

Is it okay to have coffee? Better play it safe. "No thanks. I, um, think I'm going to go chill outside for a while. You know, smell the roses or whatever. Enjoys nature's beauty."

I wander to the washrooms in the back, finding them exactly where Poison told me they'd be, begging the question of how I hadn't noticed them before. Both the men's and women's doors look like they belong in a shady gas station. Hoping it doesn't smell as bad as it looked, I push open the women's room door.

I breathe a sigh of relief, happy that it is, in fact, breathable in there. And I relive myself in peace knowing that it is not horrible gross in here. What IS disgusting, though, is my appearance. I groan at the mirror, seeing my clothes wrinkled and stained. They smell even worse. My eye makeup is smudged all over my cheeks, and red lipstick is crackled around my mouth. I don't even have that glow that you're supposed to get when you're pregnant. Ugh.

There's a bit of paper towel in the dispenser, so I wet it and wipe my face clean. Though I realize it's vain, I can't help but gaze into my reflection for a moment. I like how I look without makeup. It's a clear face that looks innocent.

But I'm not innocent. I'm dirty and a liar, and most of all, a fighter. I simply cannot go around with such a sweet face.

I run back to Missile's room—she's still rolled up in her thin blanket—and rummage through my bag to find my makeup. It's a little orange bag with blue stars… yes, there it is.

Just as I'm about to head back into the ladies' room door, Jet pushes out of the men's.

He jumps a little. "Good morning," he chuckles a second later. "You startled me! I forgot you were here."

I pretend to be upset. "You mean I'm that forgettable?"

"With that hair? No. It's just we're not used to having guests."

Why does everyone knock my hair? I go to smooth it back, but my hands meet rough cloth instead. Huh? Oh, it's just the towel. I'm not really used to the concept of clean hair or towels anymore.

Realizing I must look like a retard feeling my toweled hair, I neutralize my awkwardness with a witty remark: "Yeah, my towel hair is the envy of Zone 2."

He smirks. "I bet. I wrap my hair up the same way after the rare moment that I get to shower, and the guys always laugh at me for it."

"Aww!" I laugh. "But the towel helps it dry so much faster! They just don't understand. Short hair freaks."

He nods in humoured agreement. "All right, I gotta go before Poison drinks the whole pot of coffee."

"Sure. Do you know if Ghoul and Kobra are up yet?"

He shrugs as he starts to walk away. "I'll wake them up if they're not up by the time I'm done my coffee, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you," I smile as he leaves and I push open the ladies' room door.

Smudging on the perfect amount of purple and black eye makeup is fast and easy, but it takes me a frustrating quarter hour to get it clean under the hand blow-drying thing. Plus it makes my hair really frizzy. But my bristle brush manages to tame it, and I put my hair into its proper place—long bangs bordering my face with a few extra locks hanging off my shoulders, and the rest pulled into a high side ponytail.

When I walk into the dining area, I'm pleased to see all four boys and Missile there. I stand in the doorway for a moment, watching the tableau: Poison and Kobra chatting quietly by the coffee machine, each with a mug in hand; Jet sitting at one of the tables, eating breakfast as he flips through a magazine; and Ghoul and Missile in the far corner, with Missile chatting her friend's ear off as he polishes a gun. It's a very peaceful scene, and once again I see them as a big family. It makes me long for my own family, way out in Zone 2.

Ghoul notices me first. "Well good morning, sunshine," He says.

Immediately, Missile rushes over to me and grasps me in a tight hug. "Angel!"

I laugh and tousle her hair. "Good morning, sweetie. You seem hyper today."

She pulls back and winks at me. "I'm hyper _every_ day." Suddenly, her face crumples in thought. "Angel… you seem different. Are you feeling okay?"

My expression immediately falls, and a pit forms in my stomach. "Um, yeah, I'm fine."

Ghoul must have been watching, because he immediately makes his way over, saying, "No, I think you're lying. Your face changed when she asked you that."

By now the others have taken notice too. I tell everyone's concerned faces, "Guys, I'm fine. I swear." Unconsciously, I take a step back. Oh my god, why do they have to make such a big deal out of this? I feel tears coming on.

"Just leave me alone," I say as I turn on my heel and head out back.

Grabbing my arm, Ghoul pulls me back. "Hey, we're just trying to help, okay?"

"Just let me go!" I yell, angry. I try to yank my arm away, but his grip is too strong.

Humorlessly, he lets out a laugh. "Are you PMSing or something?"

"LET ME GO!" I scream at him. Tears stream down my cheeks.

"Come on, let her go," Missile urges to Ghoul, trying unsuccessfully trying to push him away.

"Just tell me what's wrong!" He says simply.

"Fine!" I yell. "I'm pregnant. I am fucking PREGNANT." Ghoul immediately jerks back, releasing my arm. I look around the room, taking in the shocked faces. "What, nothing to say?"

Trying to be calm, Poison says, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm fucking sure. I slept with a guy last week. I have all the symptoms. Weird cravings? Yep, crackers and mayonnaise for breakfast. Morning sickness? There's a reason I washed my hair this morning. And check it out! I'm a fucking emotional WRECK. I am FUCKING PREGNANT."

Each one of them has a different reaction. Missile looks a little frightened, but excited; Ghoul takes a few steps back, looking like he still doesn't believe me; Jet has his head in his hands, still sitting at the table; incredibly, Kobra looks happy; and Poison—Poison is _mad_.

"Well that's fucking perfect. Just fucking perfect." He yells.

"What do you mean by that?" I challenge.

He takes a few steps over. "I mean pregnancy is a liability. You can't run or fight Dracs in such a condition!" He steps even closer. "And then when the child comes, how are you going to protect it, huh? This wasteland is no place to raise a kid."

"Maybe I'll move to Canada," I argue. "Things are still pretty calm up there."

Ghoul pushes us apart. "Okay, okay you two. Calm down a sec, okay?"

I glare at Poison a second longer, then storm out the back. "Where are you going?" Someone yells.

"I'm leaving," I yell over my shoulder. "Going back to my base."

I'm almost out the door when I feel arms around my waist.

"Don't leave," Missile wimpers.

I hate to hurt her, but… "I'm sorry, Missile." I remove her arms from around me and head out the door.

I don't look back.


	6. And if You Save My Life

**Thanks again to all the wonderful YouTubers who submitted their Killjoy characters! There are only two guest Killjoys in this chapter, but I PROMISE the next chapter will have the rest. I know EXACTLY how I'm going to write them in. I just really, really wanted to get this up for Christmas for you guys. :p**

**Also, the next chapter will see the return of the main story line—you know, the defeat of BL/Ind. That means less drama! Yay!**

**The next chapter might end up being a little short, because I really want to get it up as soon as possible for you guys. I'm shooting for the beginning of February. **

**But here, my lovelies, is the sixth chapter…**

The first thing I think as I step into the heat of the morning is, "Why the fuck did I just do that?" These people were so nice to me and I just stormed off. I'm terrible. Fucking hormones. I should go back in there and apologize.

My hand is on the doorknob, ready to go back inside, when I hear a gun cocking to my right.

Draculoids.

Crap.

There's about five of them, all facing me with their guns at the ready. I freeze, not sure if I should run or shoot. Crap. My hand whips to my right thigh, where my gun holster should be, only it's not there. I didn't put it on this morning.

Time's up.

I move my arms to shield my stomach as their lasers bite through my skin. The pain—the pain is searing. It's a thousand daggers, a million brandings. With each blow I lose more and more of my vision, my thoughts. All I can do is scream.

Vaguely, after what seems like an eternity, I hear voices. Not the snarls of the Dracs, but shouts of my friends. Ahh, good. I can barely see any of them, but I know I'm safe now. As my vision continues to dim, I see lasers shooting above my head. Right now, the colours are even more beautiful than stars.

Suddenly I'm levitating—did I die? No, wait, that's not right. Someone has picked me up. One arm under my shoulders, the other beneath my knees. We're leaving the battle, rushing around the diner and to the Trans Am. Knowing I'll be safe there, I allow myself to black out.

Before I even consider the possibility of opening my eyes ever again, I mentally ask myself—is my baby okay? Weakly, I try to lift my hands to my stomach.

"Hey, don't bother," Someone tells me, gently putting my arms back at my sides.

My eyes shoot open, and I stagger, "Is… my baby…"

I see that it's Ghoul beside me. "No, no, it's not that. Well, we don't know if it'll be okay. But what I mean is… you're not doing so good right now."

I stare at him, puzzled, until the pain sets in. I wasn't injured _that_ badly, was I? I crane my neck—ouch—to look at my body; it's barely recognizable. Everything is either red or black. My arms—I can barely see them—are dotted with crispy black singe marks. My shirt, while mostly still orange around my stomach, is otherwise soaked with blood. I turn away, disgusted and frightened.

It is then that I notice my surroundings: I'm still in the back of the Trans Am—me laying on the backseat, Ghoul crouching beside me, Missile in the passenger seat and Poison driving—and we're going fast. Like, _really _fast. Uh oh, that's not good.

Though I already know the answer, I have to ask anyway. My voice full of fear, I gulp, "Where are we going?"

Poison looks at me through the rear-view mirror. "We have some friends with medical training a few minutes from here. We're gonna see what they can do for you."

Crouching on the floor beside me, Ghoul chimes in, "Yeah, you need help. Stat."

I nod even as I cringe in pain after another jolt. Trying to distract myself from the pain, I ask "Where are Kobra and Jet?" I ask.

"They're taking the motorbikes. We couldn't fit them in the backseat thanks to your fat ass," Ghoul explains.

"Thanks for that."

"Yup."

I turn my attention to Missile, who, alarmingly, has not said a word. "Hey kiddo, how ya doing?"

Her response is a painful silence.

Poison gives her a gentle nudge. "Come on, say something."

She refuses, remaining perfectly quiet.

"She's just mad at you for storming out," Ghoul shrugs. He leans in and whispers in my ear, "give her some time. I've also found that bribery works well with her."

I manage a short giggle before the pain at my sides becomes unbearable. It feels like my skin is stretching right off my bones. My lungs lapse into an agonizing cough, and I feel fresh blood leaking down my sides.

Almost immediately, I feel the car speed up.

The world is starting to dim again. I think it would be nice if I could just sleep awhile, let this pain blow over…

"Hey!" Ghoul—I think—shouts. "Stay with us. Come on." He shakes my shoulder, but I'm so tired…

"Tell me something about yourself," he demands.

"Who's the father of your child?" Poison barks.

My cheeks hurt. I must be smiling. "Sinner Seven," I breathe, my voice sounding very distant. "A good friend, but not a lover…"

"What happened, then?" Ghoul presses.

"I was… upset…" About what? Oh, right. "I missed my fiancé. We… got really drunk…"

"What was your fiancé's name?" I don't even know who's asking the questions anymore, or even if anyone's asking them at all. Maybe it's all in my head.

"His name was… Trophy Corpse." I sigh dreamily at the memory of him. "Brian."

"How long did you know each other?"

"Since we were kids," I barely whisper. I can hardly concentrate on speaking anymore.

"Where did you grow up?"

I don't have the strength to answer.

"Angel?" I feel someone shake my shoulder, but I'm just too tired to respond…

I hear the muffled shouts of the boys, arguing about something—me?—and do my best to tune it out so I can sleep…

But then I hear someone crying.

A girl.

Missile.

Why is she crying? I should go over there and… wait, is she crying for _me?_ Oh god, I can't die. I can't even sleep. This girl needs me.

Mustering all my strength, I say, "I'm okay, Missile." I'm proud of how firm I sound.

"We're here!" One of the boys shouts. I can't really tell where 'here' is; my vision is too blurry.

The door clicks open behind my head, and I feel arms pull me out. Another set of arms—Ghoul's, I guess—lifts my lower half so I'm being lifted out of the Trans Am, not dragged.

Now I hear other voices. Female voices. I can't really make out what they look like, but I catch a glimpse of blond hair.

I barely feel it when someone takes hold of my hand. It's sort of like having your hand underwater—there's weight, but you don't really notice it. I try to focus on who it is, but my eyes only droop. I can only make out a female figure.

There's pressure on my back; I'm laying down again.

There are hands examining my skin; all I feel is the pain they bring.

There are worried voices; I'm dying.

But I can barely even hear them, even though they're shouting.

I'm not going to make it.

Somehow, the thought comforts me. I guess it feels good just to have that absolution. My eyes will never open again; I will never see any suffering again, and my unborn child will never have to face the same miseries that I did. And best yet, I'll get to see Brian again…

Suddenly, I feel a dull poke in my arm. Morphine? A scalpel? Why are they even bothering? Can't they see I'm as good as dead?

But then… cutting through the muted silence that rings in my ears…

The radio. My old friend. Somebody just turned it on. I try to focus past the shouts of my friends and listen to the music.

_"A life that's so demanding_

_ I get so weak…"_

Haha. Truer words were never sung for me. How fitting that I will die to that… I listen to more.

_"I am not afraid to keep on living_

_ I am not afraid to walk this world alone…"_

Wait, what? To keep on living? Why would anyone want to do that?

I strain to stay awake as the song plays on. Sometimes I can't hear it when the static takes over; sometimes the desperate shouts of my friends overpowers it. But I try to listen, and even though I'm inches from death, I try to understand the message of the song. And by the time it's over… I am inspired to hold on.

I know now what it means to die, and it turns out that's what I needed to feel alive again.

I'm too drugged up to open my eyes or tell them that I'm not going to die. But I'm more determined than I ever was before to live.

I allow myself to lose consciousness, internally smiling with the knowledge that I will wake again.

This time when I blink awake, I feel much better. Sore, but better. Sitting up, I see that the boys and Missile are sitting in chairs around my bed, sleeping. Huh? Why are they sleeping? It's still daylight out, isn't it? I look around for a window.

It's dark out.

Geez, how long was I out for? Hopefully just hours, not days. Across from my bed is an analog clock; it reads ten o'clock. Oh my god, last I saw it was seven am.

God, I need some food.

Carefully, I swing my legs over the side of the bed. It's painful, but bearable. What would be really good would be a cane or something. I look around for something to use—no luck.

Slowly, I pad around the room towards the door. Before going into the next room, I take one final look at these kind people who have been so great to me for the past couple days. They all look so peaceful right now: Missile is curled up adorably on an armchair, Ghoul looks so young sprawled on the floor; Jet lost behind his hair, sitting against the wall; Kobra resting his head on his brother's shoulder as they slouch in their wooden chairs. What a family.

As I search for the kitchen, it dawns on me: I don't know this place at all. Where am I again? Oh, right. The medic friend's place. I wonder where they are?

Finally I reach the room I'm looking for, and two unfamiliar characters are sitting at the table, quietly chatting over two steaming mugs. They're a few years apart, age-wise, but definitely sisters.

The younger one—she looks to be about Missile's age—notices me first.

"Oooh, hello." She smiles.

The older one—around my age—looks up and smiles. "Well, look who's awake!" Her grin is warm, but cautious.

"Um, yeah. Hi." I say awkwardly. Thankfully, I manage to smile back. "I guess you're the one who saved my life?"

She nods. "Yeah. The name's Venom Striker."

The little girl pipes up, "And I'm The Nuclear Panda!" Then she winks at me. "Call me Nuke."

"Got it. I'm Angel Knives—just call me Angel—and I guess I owe you guys my life." My voice breaks a little. "I can't thank you two enough."

Nuke shakes her head and vigorously points to her sister. "It was all her, I'm just the assistant."

Venom just shrugs. "I'd do it for anyone. But you're lucky it was lasers. You'd have been dead at the scene if it was bullets. Rayguns leave burns, which are a lot more treatable."

"Okay. Well. Thank you again."

"Hey, it's all good." Her voice is calm, but she's nervously playing with the short strands of her blond locks. "Are you hungry? You must be starving. You haven't eaten all day. C'mon, Nuke, let's round up some food."

"Oh, thank you so much," I sigh.

"No prob. Hey, what kind of food do you want?" Venom asks, her face in a cupboard.

I close my eyes and smile. "Corn dogs with icing."

Both girls stop in their tracks. "Come again?" Asks Nuke with a raised eyebrow.

"You know, corn dogs. Hotdogs on a stick wrapped in some kind of bread. They're super good, but I need something sweet, too."

Suddenly, a spark goes off in Venom's head. "Oh, right. You're pregnant, aren't you? I think someone mentioned it earlier."

Nuke's eyes widen. "You're gonna have a baby?"

"Yeah." But worry clouds my thoughts. "My baby's okay, right?" I ask Venom. "You didn't notice anything wrong?"

Her face darkens. "Well, it's hard to tell. You didn't really have any injuries around there, but just the trauma in general could have… well, you know. But I wouldn't know anyway; I don't have any sort of training in… oh, what's the word. I don't know much about fetuses and pregnancy and stuff. You'd have to go into Battery City to get it checked out."

"Oh. Okay." I have a feeling that the knots in my stomach are going to be there for a while.

She walks over to me and puts her hand on my shoulder. "Hey. It'll be okay."

Just as quickly as she came, she saunters back to the cupboards. "I don't think we have any corndogs or icing, but I'm sure we can find _something_ for you."

From the fridge, Nuke suggests, "Well, how about some hot cocoa? That's sweet."

"Oh, yes. I would LOVE some."

"Is there anything else you want?" Venom asks. "You should really get some actual food."

"Yeah." I allow myself a small smile. "Got any crackers?"

"Yeah, sure." Venom ducks into a corner cupboard and returns with a box.

"Thanks." I waste no time in stuffing my face with the gloriously crunchy snacks.

"So who else is in your group?" I ask after a few bites.

Venom looks nervous again. "We, um, we're by ourselves. Just the two of us."

"Yep, the Dynamic Duo," Nuke smirks.

"Cool," I nod, unsure of what to say next. I'm not super good at normal conversations. I search the room with my eyes, looking for something to talk about. I find my answer around Venom's neck.

"Those are some cool whistles you've got there," I smile.

"Oh yeah, these," she laughs. "I've got a pretty good collection, I guess."

"I'll say. How many are there?"

Shrugging, she answers, "About ten, I guess."

I nod, trying to think of how to keep the conversation going. "Cool colours." After another short moment of silence, I ask, "So why do you collect them?"

She smiles to herself and lovingly fondles a red one. Looking back to me, she replies with a wink, "Maybe I'll tell you someday."

I raise my eyebrows and shrug, not really willing to push her. Honestly, I'm kind of losing interest in talking to them. I mean they seem like great people, but I'm suddenly incredibly tired. Groggy, I guess, from being unconscious all day. If that makes any actual sense.

"Well, it's been lovely to meet you two, but I'm really tired… is it okay if I just sleep in that other room? The one I was in before?"

Venom nods. "Yeah, go ahead. Can you find your way back there?"

"I think so. It was just down the hall, right?"

"Yeah."

"All right then, good night."

"Good night," the girls say in unison.

Five steps out of the kitchen, my mind is screaming about how awkward I was back there. I made them look for food for me (even though they saved my life today and _I _should be getting food for _them_), ate it, and then left. It was such an uncomfortable goodbye, too. It was so abrupt.

Well, whatever. I'm too tired and sore to really care.

Poison's awake when I enter the room. He's a silhouette in the moonlight, sketching by the window. I watch him for a moment, admiring the passion in the way he draws. I just wish I could see what he's drawing.

The floorboards creak as I take a careful step into the room, and he immediately looks up. His face is too shadowy to see his expression, but from the way he jumped when he heard me, I'd say he's surprised.

He quickly recovers, though, and puts his sketchbook down and silently dashes over to me. I become the surprised one when he folds me into a quick hug.

"How're you feeling?" He murmurs as he takes a step back.

"Sore. And your hug didn't help, asshole."

He grins. "Glad to see your attitude is still intact."

"As if there was any question it would ever go away."

"Well, a man can hope…"

"Puh-_lease,_" I say as I gently nudge him, "You like it."

"Whatever," he scoffs.

Another wave of tiredness overtakes me, and I yawn.

"God, you'd think you'd be a lot better rested," he jokes.

"Shut up, my ailing body needs its rest."

"Sure, whatever. Need a hand getting over to the cot?"

I push past him—carefully—and say over my shoulder, "It's like ten feet. Do I _look_ like a cripple?"

"Little bit, yeah."

"Nope, I'm as fabulous as ever," I tell him as I climb into the bed.

"Nope, you're a cripple," he corrects me as he falls back into his chair beside his brother.

"Okay, we'll make a compromise and then you'll shut up so I can sleep, deal?" I whisper.

"Deal," he whispers back.

"I'm fabulous and you're an ass."

Poison starts to protest, but a voice from the floor mumbles, "Shut up, the both of you."

I'm smiling as I fall asleep.


End file.
